


8. Gateway

by Iolre



Series: 100 Themes Challenge [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is visiting the residence of Mummy Holmes for the first time. On their way through the estate, Sherlock gets sidetracked and insists there is something he has to do first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	8. Gateway

“Are you kidding me, Sherlock?” John’s mouth hung slightly open as he gaped at the huge gateway in front of him. The pillars were twice as tall as John and half as thick, surrounding a huge gate built with thick steel bars.

“No.” Sherlock’s mouth was twisted into a sour expression, his arms crossed as they rode towards the intercom. Sherlock tapped some numbers into the keypad and submitted to a brief retina scan before the gate swung open. John blinked before allowing himself to settle back in his seat, gaping at the gardens they were passing. It was his first visit to the major Holmes estate, and although he had not been terrified initially, he wondered if he should have been. Sherlock’s Mum had apparently gotten word that John and Sherlock were in town on a case and decided that it was the perfect time for a social visit.

“It’s huge,” John said. Sherlock made a point out of rolling his eyes in a hugely exaggerated motion and John shook his head slightly. “Remember? Best behavior. You promised.”

Sherlock made a disgusted noise low in his throat before leaning forward and tapping on the partition between them and the driver. The car slowly came to a stop and Sherlock opened the door and gestured for John to follow. John did, obedient as usual, although he paused halfway out to realize they were still a considerable distance from the entrance to the house. Sherlock slapped a hand down on the boot of the car as soon as John was safely outside of it and watched it drive towards the driveway leading to the house. Grabbing John’s hand, Sherlock dragged him in the direction of what appeared to be a never-ending line of tall hedges. John was about to protest when he noted a break in the leafy green bushes. Sherlock gently pulled him through to the other side and kept going, never letting go of John’s wrist.

“Sherlock,” John said, his voice soft yet insistent. There was no answer from the taller man, who merely kept walking as if John had not said anything. John attempted to dig his heels in but failed. He continued to follow Sherlock instead of being dragged. He took a moment to appreciate their surroundings. It was some type of forest - the trees were tall and leafy, casting gentle shadows on the dark forest floor. Although John wasn’t sure what kind of trees they were, he’d put a significant amount of money on them being rare or one of a kind. This was residence of a Holmes. He smiled, hearing the songs of birds and the chatter of other small animals - squirrels, perhaps.

Sherlock’s pace increased and John frowned slightly. Something was going on and Sherlock was not giving him enough signals to guess what it could be. Although Sherlock had kissed him last week, their relationship was still new and John was not exactly sure where the boundaries were. He was afraid that pushing Sherlock too far would have negative repercussions for both of them. “Alright,” he assented, allowing Sherlock to pull him along. Sherlock stopped at this, turning back briefly to make eye contact and then swept his gaze up and down John’s body. John stared back, giving as good as he got, before Sherlock turned back and kept going.

“I think the house is in the other direction,” John offered helpfully. Although Sherlock did not look down at him, John could see the corners of his mouth quirk in a smile.

“Yes, it is.” Sherlock paused, allowing John a breath while he quickly surveyed the circle of trees in which they stood. He walked over to one, carefully examining some marks carved into the trunk. A faint smile danced about his lips and John watched, entranced. Sherlock was beautiful on a normal day, even when lounging about the flat in his pyjamas. Surrounded by green in what was probably a forest at some point, the filtered light hit his body in just the right ways, accentuating his face in ways John had not known possible.

Sherlock reached out and grasped John’s wrist again, towing him off in a different direction. John followed, willingly this time. Trust was immediate and explicit between the two. Slowly Sherlock’s stride slowed, and eventually stopped. John halted when Sherlock threw out an arm in front of his chest. John looked quickly over at his friend, watching a slow smile spread over his normally serene face. Turning his gaze to match Sherlock’s, he had to refrain from gasping aloud.

They were standing in front of a small, natural waterfall with a small pond at the bottom. The waterfall’s pond seemed to disappear underground and emerge into a shallow creek just a few feet away. The running water surprised John, as he had not heard it as they approached. He credited himself with the thought that Sherlock was rather distracting, especially when he was showing off. They were surrounded by large, dark green trees and the ground was covered in soft, gentle green moss. Sherlock let go of John’s wrist and took a few small steps forward, his hand tentatively reaching out and touching a large rock near the base of the small pond. John’s eyes were on Sherlock now, warm and willing to understand. He had obviously brought John here for some reason - what was on John’s mind was finding out why. All in good time, of course.

“I used to come here a lot.” Sherlock’s voice caught a bit and he took a step back, turning to face John and visibly steeling himself. His chin rose up to its normal level and he looked down at John as if assuring John that he was about as composed as he could get.

“As a child, you mean?” John asked, crossing his arms, watching Sherlock intently. Sherlock’s chin dipped a fraction, and John smiled.

“Yes. The waterfall was larger, then, but it -” Sherlock hesitated, then continued. “It helped clear my mind, in a way. Especially when this spring is cold, it helps accelerate thought, and the rhythm - sometimes it felt like a heartbeat.” His glance at John was pained, and John smiled reassuringly. Sherlock shook his head briefly and closed his eyes, opening them moments later to fix them on a seemingly high point of the waterfall. “I thought...you might like to see it here.”

John started, although he did his best to not show a physical reaction. This, above all, showed how much Sherlock valued the relationship beginning and solidifying between the two men. “I love it here,” he said simply. Although he had been there mere moments, it was true. It was peaceful. He could imagine Sherlock as a child valuing the place for its simplicity, for its refuge from the constant problems he faced, from the mind that constantly plagued him with thoughts that were considered unwelcome by the majority of the population. Wincing in sympathy, he took a few steps forward and drew level with his friend. Sherlock looked back at him, startled, but he relaxed when John slipped an arm around his waist and drew him close with minimal effort.

“I do, too.” Sherlock voiced the words slowly, as if it was a novel thought to him to agree with someone’s opinions. John felt his body shift slightly closer and he hid a half-smile. “We should get going.” Sherlock’s voice was firmer, although John swore he heard a hint of reluctance. This time Sherlock did not grab John’s wrist but instead took his hand, twining the fingers together slowly so that their hands were firmly clasped together. 

“Not going back the way we came?” John asked, tilting his head in the direction they had came from.

“There’s a small gate this way that leads straight into Mummy’s,” Sherlock answered quietly. His pace was far more leisurely and John smiled. Sherlock had taken the time and the effort to share something intensely personal with him, and the thought pleased him to no end. Stroking their combined hands with his thumb, John followed Sherlock through the gateway and towards Mummy Holmes’ house. Surely she could not be that bad.


End file.
